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Updated: May 13, 2025
The saloon keepers sold their wares for cash and, as the men of the town and the farmers who drove into town felt that without drink life was unbearable, cash always could be found for the purpose of getting drunk. Hugh McVey's father, John McVey, had been a farm hand in his youth but before Hugh was born had moved into town to find employment in a tannery.
From Bidwell, Ohio, to farms all over the Middle West, Hugh McVey's name had been carried. His machine for cutting corn was called the McVey Corn-Cutter. The name was printed in white letters against a background of red on the side of the machine.
"It's a seven millimeter Mauser," said Douglass, quietly, "and there's only one such gun on this range. It's a pretty big payment on account, Red!" McVey's lips hardened but he evaded the other's eye. "Let's get the direction," he said, "and maybe we can work it out."
In the midst of the little hopeless community of beaten men and yellow defeated women on the bank of the Mississippi River, the woman who had become Hugh McVey's second mother and in whose veins flowed the blood of the pioneers, felt herself undefeated and unbeatable.
Claude pitied the girl, and used to talk with her, during his short stay, in his cheeriest manner. "Hello, Nina! How you vass, ain't it? How much cream already you got this morning? Did you hear the news, not?" "No, vot hass happened?" "Everything. Frank Mcvey's horse stepped through the bridge and broke his leg, and he's going to sue the county-mean Frank is, not the horse." "Iss dot so?"
Everything betokened thrift and good management, and Douglass, looking at it with critical approvement, knew that so far he had made good. "She nevah looked bettah," was McVey's satisfied comment as he sat on his horse on the crest of the little divide overlooking the ranch. "Yuh suah hev got thu layout well in hand. We'll hev hay to buhn this fall."
Certain it is that the shiny poll was entirely devoid of any hirsute covering at the present time, despite its owner's unremitting applications of all the patent nostrums he could get the latest being an unguent built by Red McVey's suggestion out of rattlesnake oil and Tobasco sauce!
Just before mounting he said, holding McVey's fist in a cordial grip, his other hand upon the brawny shoulder: "Red, I have decided to make my vacation a permanent one. I am not coming back. You are in full charge now and naturally will be retained in that capacity. You are a square, straight, white man, and I am leaving you a free field. I wish you luck."
Abigail glared at him, but Grace, with a final pat to the pillows, smiled indulgently. "Get well quickly; we need you too much; and it must be dreadful to have to stay indoors in this weather." Then she went out rather abstractedly, McVey's eyes following her with the wistfulness of a dog's. Abbie, watching him, smiled satirically. "Red, too!" she ejaculated mentally; "well, why not?
All of the early formative years of Hugh McVey's life had been spent within sound of the lapping of the waters of the Mississippi River.
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